


The Maiden

by Sookiestark



Series: Seven Times Tyrion Married Sansa [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Post-Canon, Post-War, Queen Sansa, Sansa as Queen Elizabeth I- esque
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 13:48:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15931700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: Sansa is the Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms. Sansa is like Queen Elizabeth I, the Virgin Queen. But since this is ASoIaF, she is the Maiden Queen. But is the Queen Regent as pure as everyone thinks?





	The Maiden

**Author's Note:**

> Many years ago, I spent a great deal of my life studying Elizabethan literature and history. This is just a super short fic based on the fan theory that Sansa will be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms at the end. The reason I made her the Queen Regent and not the Queen is I really believe that Daenerys is pregnant. I really can't see the baby dying because that would be pretty useless to even introduce it. In that situation, I could not see Sansa taking the throne from her cousin's son. It seems not like something I think she would do.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy

Queen Regent Sansa Stark has never been cut by the Iron Throne. She has sat on it for over fifteen years and it has never made a scratch on the smooth surface of her pale skin. There are some who say it is proof that she among all the great lords and ladies has deserved to sit there and rule. There are some who say it is because she is above such things as love, marriage, children. She has stated she is the Mother of the Seven Kingdoms. It is her only child.

Though Aemon, Jon’s son, has been like her son through all these years, she is not his mother. Though there have been moments when she held the tiny, orphaned baby in her arms, she felt a closeness, a love that a mother would feel. In the beginning, when she came to King’s Landing, the burned capital of a ruined kingdom, she had only one mission to keep the throne safe until Jon’s son could sit there. After the War for the Dawn, there had been a Great Council meeting. Lord Tyrion had proposed the idea. Let Lady Sansa Stark be the Queen Regent. After all, she had spent time in King's Landing, the Vale and, the North. Lady Sansa had the overwhelming support of the lords and when she left the room, she was the Queen Regent. 

She had had no idea how she might do this but she had learned from the best, Littlefinger, Tyrion, Varys, even Queen Cersei. She had learned from her father’s mistakes and from Jon’s. She had had good counsel at her side; Lord Davos, Missandei, Theon, and Tyrion. Sansa had been surprised how few had pressed for a Regency Council. Instead, they let her climb the stairs and be anointed as the Queen Regent. Looking back, there had been so much death and devastation from the second War for the Battle for the Dawn, many lords needed to get back to their own people and help rebuild. Of course, then the Pale Mare had killed more of the population. 

With so much death and devastation, Queen Regent Sansa had come up with an idea. It had been after the second assassination attempt, directly after the Lord of the Reach had proposed. She would play a part and the people would love her for it. Margaery had played a part for the people and the people had loved her for it. Sansa would as well. She became the Ice Queen, the Virgin Queen. A Maiden Queen above marriage, birth, love, and husbands. Her only love would be her people. Her only child would be her kingdom. A normal woman would be ruled by her husband but she was a Queen and she would have no husband. She would be ruled by no one. Her word would be her own. Her word would be law. At least until Aemon came of age. 

 

Sansa doesn't mind the things some lords and smallfolk say about her. She can be the Ice Queen, the Maiden Incarnate, the Frigid Wolf Bitch. It keeps suitors from her. She had suitors in the beginning, but she spurned them and after some years, they stopped coming around the time the lines in her face started appearing. Most of the people love her. 

They have had many years of prosperity, of good harvests, of full bellies, of peace. Most people love her for this. There are some septons and septas who say she is the Maiden herself, walking on the earth. They say Sansa is as blessed and holy as King Baelor. It is the reason the Iron Throne has never cut her because she is pure because she is above the flesh and sin. They say this is the reason a woman can rule, unlike Rhaenyra, or Cersei, or Daenerys, Queen Sansa is pure. No man touches her flesh. She is not clouded by desire, lust, or needs for children. 

Sometimes, these sentiments make Sansa laugh, but never in public, only in the privacy of her chambers. Sansa has played the part so well, it is as if everyone has forgotten she has been married twice. She is no maiden. But let the people believe what they must, she will not challenge any of it. 

Instead, she writes laws, raises taxes, grants charters, builds roads, calls the lords, hears petitions, runs a country, and raises Aemon. Sansa has worked long days and nights keeping the Seven Kingdoms governed. She has had help from the Small Council and her Hand, Lord Tyrion Lannister. For more than fifteen years, they have worked side-by-side, keeping the kingdom working and making sure that Aemon would be prepared to be King. When they haven’t been busy with Westeros, their days were filled with making sure he would be a capable and good king like his father would have been.

As Aemon got older and closer to his coronation, some lords thought she might keep the crown After all, who would willingly turnover a crown. Where would she go? She had given up Winterfell to her younger sister and her children, However, Queen Sansa had every intention of giving up the crown. When she looked in the mirror and saw her tired eyes or the grey hairs among the red. She would stay and help him but let the boy have his kingdom. After all, she had only been a little older than him the first time she sat on that ugly chair.

The last few moons, the Queen has been busy with plans of Aemon’s coronation, as well as meetings and negotiations with noble fathers for eligible ladies to betroth Prince Aemon and be his Queen. Everyone had thought she would pick one of her sister’s girls. Instead, she had chosen Edmure and Roslin’s daughter, Calla Tully. Some whispered the girl was a quarter Frey, but Sansa thought that it was a fine match. The girl was a pretty thing, with brown curls and bright blue eyes. More importantly, the Queen saw the way the Prince’s eyes would linger or his laugh when Lady Calla was near. 

About two months before Prince Aemon’s coronation, someone mentioned her Hand’s need for a wife. A young Lord Amberys Velaryon, Master of the Ships, who had replaced Theon Greyjoy years ago, had made a joke in the Small Council meeting that after the coronation, Lord Tyrion should tend to his House or he would be the last Lannister. Young Lord Ryam Baratheon, the Prince’s best friend, and the heir to Storm’s End continued the jest saying Lord Tyrion would want a young pretty bride to fill Casterly Rock with a bunch of heirs. Prince Aemon had gently nudged Tyrion, “Perhaps if you had a girl in your bed, you could work on her as hard as you work on the Seven Kingdoms.”

 

It had made Sansa grow quiet and think. Queen Sansa had smiled at her Hand, Lord Tyrion, you should take up an offer. Casterly Rock needs an heir. It would help the Prince to know the west was secured with an ally and his son.” 

Queen Sansa had given him several options; the Dayne girl, the Blackwood girl, the Hightower girl, and more. With each new prospect, Lord Tyrion would smile and say, “There is still time, plenty of time. I will marry when you, my Queen, are safe at Winterfell, once more. Worry not, Your Grace. I have cousins plenty with the last name Lannister who are itching to rule the Rock.” 

If anyone notices the gentleness in his voice or how her hand will linger on his, no one pays any attention to it. After all, she is the Virgin Queen and Lord Tyrion, the Demon Monkey, known to be a whoremonger and a drunkard. There is only tenderness because they have worked so closely over the years. 

Sometimes, this makes Sansa laugh in rooms at night.

At night, he comes to her. No one knows. Lord Tyrion uses a secret door and a tunnel built hundreds of years ago. The Queen is already in bed when she hears him enter. Gently, he speaks as he climbs beside in her bed, “Your Grace, are you sleeping?”

“No,” Sansa says as she pulls Tyrion close, “I am not sleepy.”

Sansa doesn't really remember how it started, not really. If she thinks back, years ago, it was the lightest of touch on her hand, a platonic gesture of reassurance. When Tyrion removed his hand, she could not stop thinking of the warm weight of his fingers on her hand and how they were so much rougher than she ever thought they would be and how the rough skin might feel on parts other than her hands. Sansa had spent many days thinking back on how she liked the weight of his hand and the way his mismatched eyes would look at her across the Small Council table. 

When she had kissed him one night, it had felt like a dam had broken, and all the desire she had ever, had flooded her. For almost the entire first year, every night, no matter how late he had snuck to her room and they had fucked tirelessly, full of ache and longing, until they were worn out and exhausted. Then he would leave long before the dawn. As the years progressed, the visits had grown less frequent and their couplings had grown less fiery. Sometimes, Tyrion would just hold her until he fell asleep. 

Since the Queen had started searching for a bride for her Hand, since Prince Aemon’s coronation was drawing closer, there had been a frantic quality to their time in bed together that had reminded her of when they had first started. It had been full of longing and a sense of urgency and heartbreak, that this would be the last time they would be in each other’s arms. This night would be the last time they would share long kisses and restless nights. In the morning, Sansa would wake alone and filled with mixed emotions, regret over keeping him from a bride, burning desire for his body to make her cry out like he could, and the sense of loss that they would say goodbye soon and their time was coming to an end. Their trysts became all ache and longing with them both trying to drag out moments in dark nights that ended suddenly with the dawn peeking over the horizon too soon, rushed movements and bruising kisses, trying to wring out every ounce of pleasure left in their bodies before they would have to stop.

 

Sansa is older than her mother had been when she had died and Lady Catelyn had had five children. She is thirty-five and time is short. She has given everything to her family and her cousin’s child and the Seven Kingdoms. It was her family, her honor, her duty. She did it and does not regret it, but now her time is coming to an end. 

The Queen Regent has grown tired of moon tea. A moon ago, Lord Tyrion had been in her bed. She had been panting, her head dizzy from his kisses, shaking with desire. On an impulse, Sansa had begged him to let go inside of her, aching to be full with his child and he had complied breathless against her. Over the next week or two, it had happened again and again. 

 

It had been foolish and impulsive, coupled with her inability to drink moon tea, possibly madness. Her courses had stopped and she knew they would not be coming. Sansa had not believed her foolishness, her sentimentality. 

“How goes the coronation plans? Not long now. The coronation is at the end of the week. The wedding the next day. You must feel accomplished. You have kept him safe. You have led the Seven Kingdoms,” he says, lying with her in his arms. She knows how much he likes to talk. Sometimes, it is nice to listen to him. She wonders how she will tell him and if he will be angry. 

Sansa kisses him again, silencing him. Tyrion makes an approving sound and his hands move to her hips. The Queen pulls away from him and speaks looking into his eyes, “I think we need to plan a wedding... Another wedding.” 

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean to say I believe the Maiden Queen, the Ice Queen of Winterfell, is with child. Perhaps, you might consider another bride in your search for Lady of Casterly Rock.”

Tyrion laughed, hugged her and kissed her, “Of course. I had hoped you would come around to see that you and I are the best pair.”

Pulling her to him, he kissed her, “Now, you will be the Maiden Queen no more. You will be my wife. How will Casterly Rock and a dwarf ever keep you happy? You were the Queen of Seven Kingdoms for fifteen years.”

“We will have to have more children,” Sansa said.


End file.
